“Daniel, as always, you are the very finest of men. But you must not worry so about it all. Now that we know, we shall be on our guard, I promise.” Adeline rose from her chair so that she might sit beside Daniel Travers on the couch and take his hand in hers. “Oh wonderful, here comes tea,” she went on brightly.
The maid set down the tray and smiled at them all.
“Thank you, Maisy,” Daniel said genuinely. “I must say, the little cakes look awfully appetizing.”
“Cook made them, Sir. And they are lovely,” Maisy said before performing a neat little curtsey and leaving the drawing room.
“Allow me,” Imogen said and set about pouring the tea and arranging the plates for cake.
“Thank you, Lady Pennington.”
“So, now that we have established that Imogen and I shall be on the lookout for those who would seek to frustrate our work, tell me why it is you still look so strained, my dear man.”
“Oh, Adeline. You see through me as if I were a pane of glass.” Daniel laughed. “For you are right, there is something more.”
“What is it, Daniel?” Adeline urged.
“Now that I am no longer able to provide anything of worth to the people inside the workhouse, all that is left for me now is to ensure that those outside of it do not find themselves knocking on that door. For you see, until your shelter is up and running, the poor of Lambeth have only one option. I can do no other now but find help for those who are struggling. If we cannot stop what happens inside the workhouse, we must do what we can to help those who are being drawn inexorably to its doors. At least until such time as you are able to provide them with a real alternative.”
“Of course,” Adeline said sadly. “And it is a timely reminder for us that we need really to throw ourselves into the thing now; we must pick up our pace and run if we have too. Now that you are not there to see what happens to those poor souls, and now that those in authority are aware of our intentions, time is certainly of the essence.”
“Indeed, it is. And I shall do all I can to find ways of helping those in distress, but I am only one man.”
“You have something in particular which upsets you, Daniel, I can see it.” Adeline reached for his hand again.
“There is a family, Adeline. A man and a woman with several young children in the heart of Kennington. The man is currently without work because he has suffered an injury. An injury which he sustained when working for his former employer. And now the landlord of the two rooms they rent is making ready to force them out onto the streets. I have tried to reason with him, but I can get nowhere. I thought, perhaps …” He trailed off.
“You thought right, my dear man. Now, give us all of the details,” Adeline said, and Imogen saw Daniel Travers visibly relax.
Chapter 23
“How glad I am that you are finally here, my dear Lord Ravenswood.” Veronica Montgomery crooned as she showed Jeremy Ravenswood to a seat in the drawing room.
“And to such a fine drawing room in such a fine mansion, My Lady.” Jeremy Ravenswood was equally obsequious.
“I thank you, Lord Ravenswood.” Veronica inclined her head graciously. “And my dear Jemima, how beautiful you look.”
Heath almost winced; his mother had begun to talk to Miss Ravenswood in an overly familiar way. She had no doubt already decided that the marriage between them was as good as pronounced. And Miss Ravenswood, for her part, looked inordinately pleased to be called by her Christian name by the Countess of Reddington.
“Thank you, Lady Reddington,” Jemima said sweetly before delicately arranging her beautiful gown and taking a seat at the side of her father.
“Prudence, be a dear and find out what has happened to afternoon tea,” Veronica said as she hardly looked at her daughter.
Prudence rose without a word and stalked out of the room, catching Heath’s eye as she went. Neither Heath nor Prudence had been looking forward to the afternoon tea to which their mother had invited Lord Ravenswood and his daughter. And Heath realized that his sister was no more enamored of the pair than he; perhaps they were easier to tolerate at a more public event where there were other people present to distract them for a while.
“I must say, Lady Reddington, I greatly enjoyed the boat race at Richmond,” Jemima Ravenswood said, and Heath thought her comment rather pointed.
“Yes, as did I. In truth, I would say that I enjoyed it rather more than the ball that the Duke of Dalton held. What do you say, Heath?” Veronica Montgomery turned her attention upon her son, and as she looked at him, he thought her eyes beady, like those of a hawk.
“I enjoyed both well enough,” he said in a tone which he thought made him sound as if he were in a great sulk.
“I thought the Duke paid a great deal of attention to Lady Pennington, did you not, Lady Reddington?” Miss Ravenswood was clearly in a mood to gossip.
“Don’t know what he sees in her,” Jeremy Ravenswood piped up arrogantly, and Heath thought the whole thing distasteful.
It was as if they had fully determined to engage him in a most derisory conversation about Lady Imogen, perhaps in an attempt to gauge his sentiment in regard to her.
“Particularly if she continually talks about Lambeth paupers.” Lady Veronica let out a piercing laugh. “Really, I can hardly imagine that Nathaniel Carswell finds that sort of talk particularly engaging.” She continued to laugh.
“No, I cannot believe for a moment that the Duke is the least bit interested in the plight of the poor in Lambeth or anywhere else,” Heath said, and his mother looked at him sharply.
He had left his comment purposely ambiguous and yet, at the same time, he knew immediately that his mother had correctly perceived his meaning.
“Indeed, and quite rightly so,” Lady Veronica sounded quite spiteful.
Heath was pleased when Prudence reappeared; if he had one ally in the room, it was surely his sister.
“Tea is ready, Mother. It is being brought up now,” Prudence said in a perfunctory manner before taking a seat opposite Heath.
Prudence sat between the chair her mother occupied and Jemima’s end of the couch she shared with her father. Heath could not help thinking it was so that Prudence could catch his eye and pull faces without either his mother or Jemima being at all aware of it. And as for Lord Ravenswood, he was so busy looking all around him at the tastefully decorated drawing room that he was barely in the conversation at all anyway.
“About time,” Veronica said waspishly when two maids came in carrying enormous, heavily laden silver trays.
“Thank you kindly,” Heath said to both maids before they curtsied and made their way quickly out of the drawing room.
Once again, Heath was treated to a searching and calculated look from his mother; she had never been a person who thanked his staff for anything, but she seemed to be making a good point of being rude to them. She very likely thought that she was impressing Lord Ravenswood and his daughter and, in all honesty, she most likely was. In truth, he simply thought that she was behaving like a spoilt girl, lashing out because she was not entirely sure she was about to get her own way. And she was not.
“Prudence, do pour.” Once again, the Countess of Reddington spoke to her own daughter as if she were one of the servants.
Without a word, Prudence set about pouring the tea immediately and made a point of setting her mother’s down without even looking at her. Heath thought it little wonder that Prudence despised their mother, and he was beginning to think that he did also. If only he had come to his senses a little sooner, then he might not have risked losing a much-adored sister.
Heath did not pay too much attention to Jemima Ravenswood as she sat neatly on the couch next to her father. Just weeks before, he would have thought her simply ravishing. She was wearing a silken gown in a deep green which suited her perfectly and made her golden hair look ever brighter. But Heath could not find interest in her anywhere; she was the same as so many others he had met in the past; vapid and self-servi
ng.
How he wished he had not tried so hard to upset Lady Imogen at the Richmond boat race. If only he had not paid so great an amount of attention to Jemima Ravenswood, especially not in front of her father and his own mother. It had lent the whole thing a dreadful sense of obligation, and he thought that the entire company present already assumed that the two were in courtship, despite the fact that not a word had been spoken.
Well, in the end, Heath knew that he would simply have to be rude if that was what it took. He would not find himself edged into a corner, having to spend an entire life married to a woman who was simply a younger version of his own mother.
“No, I think the Duke would do well not be taken in by too much of Lady Pennington’s conversation. Although I am sure he is not. After all, he seems such a sensible young man.” Heath was reeling; his mother could be admiring and patronizing all in one sentence. Although he did think that the Duke very much deserved it.
“Yes, but sometimes a man’s head can be turned by the curiosity of a spirited woman.” Jemima Ravenswood made the idea of a woman having spirit sound like a terrible affliction of some sort. Heath almost laughed.
“The poor thing, I can quite imagine that she will find herself all alone in the end.” Veronica and Jemima seemed to be holding the conversation entirely between themselves.
“It is often the case with that type of woman.” As Jemima spoke, Heath was aware of her casting him surreptitious glances.
Well, he had decided to give her what she was looking for.
“I hardly think that a woman such as Lady Imogen Pennington will find herself alone for long, Miss Ravenswood.” As he spoke, he was aware that Prudence’s mouth dropped open a little in surprise. However, he could not look directly at her for fear of laughing.
“Well, perhaps she will find some dreadful little revolutionary somewhere who will take her on.” The Countess burst out into dreadful peals of laughter which made her sound inordinately spiteful.
“Mother, I see you have not come to know Lady Pennington well enough. I find her terribly good company, and she is absolutely committed to helping others. Do you not think that a good personality trait?” Prudence spoke sweetly in an attempt to disguise the fact that she was trying to upend her own mother in conversation.
“Really, Prudence. I ought to pay more attention to the company you keep.” Veronica tried to laugh, but it was clear that she was annoyed.
“Well, I have no concerns about the company my sister keeps, Mother,” Heath said. He was tired of playing his mother’s games and wished himself anywhere in the world, far, far away from his mother and the dreadful Ravenswoods. What did it matter if he was rude to them all?
“But I suppose you are not aware, my dear boy, that your sister went to a coffee house to hear her speak. Really, a coffee house where liberal politics are spouted and there sits your sister, a girl brought up with the utmost care, listening to a dreadful woman who cannot hold her tongue.”
“Mother, I am perfectly well aware that Prudence went to Lamont’s Coffee House,” he said and paused for a moment to enjoy the look on his mother’s face. “And I would hardly describe Lady Pennington as a dreadful woman who cannot hold her tongue. After all, if she is to gain recognition for her work and therefore secure patrons, surely she needs to speak about the thing? And I believe she speaks very well indeed.” He stopped short of admitting that he himself had hovered in the doorway of the coffee house to listen.
“It is all very well, but do you not think that the poor will not be helped by simply accepting blind charity?” Jemima inserted herself into the conversation with a false sort of confidence.
“How so, Miss Ravenswood?” he said, turning to look at her fully for the first time since she had arrived in his drawing room.
“I do not think that it is good for anybody to simply accept money. I mean, they have not had to work for it, and so they will likely not respect that money. They will simply expect it as a God-given right, will they not?”
“And in that respect, Miss Ravenswood, how would the poor differ from the aristocracy?” he said and looked straight into her pretty little eyes.
“Heath!” Veronica Montgomery was beginning to sound a little desperate.
“No, Mother. Why should it be that it is perfectly acceptable for one social group to take money they have not earned and for another, it is unacceptable? Why should we pour scorn upon the poor for accepting charity when they have nothing, yet save our finest accolades for ourselves who also accept money in the form of inheritance? And we are the ones who do not work, certainly not in the way that the poor do.”
“For goodness sake, Heath. You sound like a Whig politician.” Veronica was almost hissing at him.
“My dear mother, I am not suggesting that we throw all our money away and live as paupers do. I am simply saying that we obviously as a class are not grateful for what we have. We accept it as a right; we demand it as an entitlement. And yet I hardly think the poor behave so badly; I have seen charity given and accepted, and it is a far cry from anything you might imagine it to be. It is a very humbling act to witness, I can assure you.” Heath could not help thinking of the day he had spent in Southwark, hovering outside the soup kitchen in hopes of a single glimpse of Lady Imogen.
And he could not help picturing how kind and beautiful she had looked as she smiled at the bent and ragged man who had come to the kitchen for nothing more than a meal to fill his empty belly. The ragged man did not have the air of a person who expected to be provided for as his right. No, he had looked broken and grateful all at once, and Heath wished he could have dragged his dreadful mother and the equally dreadful Miss Ravenswood there to see it for themselves. Of course, he knew it would make no difference to them.
In the end, his class told themselves whatever they had to so that the task of making other human beings invisible was quick and painless for them.
“Well, I cannot begin to imagine why it is you say such things, my dear son. Obviously, something has affected you, and I can only hope that you will recover. You must understand that we do not have an obligation to these people,” Veronica spoke in crooning tones as if she was truly soothing a sickly child.
“I begin to think that you are wrong, Mother. I begin to think that we do have an obligation to these people,” Heath concluded. “Now, perhaps we ought to enjoy this delicious looking tea and talk upon other subjects.”
Chapter 24
As was the custom throughout every London Season, Lord and Lady Seaton hosted many events in Belgravia. They were well-known for their society breakfasts, their home becoming something of an open house for the elite of London several mornings a week.
Heath had not attended many, it was true, but he relished the opportunity to take his leave from his Belgravia mansion so that he might leave his mother and her wounded little face behind for a while.
“I say, Lord Reddington, Lady Seaton and I had quite despaired of having you back here for breakfast.” Lord Seaton took a seat at Heath’s table for a while.
The vast dining room in Lord Seaton’s home had been set out for many guests. There were tables everywhere, and it reminded Heath of one of the better restaurants of the area. The fact that there were so many guests eating was a testament to the fine food that the Seatons always laid on.
“I have decided to rise a little earlier these days and make the most of the tail-end of the London season, my dear fellow,” he spoke amiably, happy to be in the older man’s society for a while.
The two chatted happily as he manfully ploughed his way through kidneys, bacon, eggs, and tomatoes. When a footman brought over a steaming pot of coffee and began to pour one for Heath, he thought himself peculiarly content. The food had been divine, and the coffee was rich and strong. For a moment, Heath dwelt upon the fact that he had been provided with a meal. He had been provided with a meal and had been expected to give nothing in return. Once again, his mind was drawn to the ragged man outside the soup kitchen in
Southwark.
With his breakfast finished and Lord Seaton looking ready to flutter away to another of his guests, Heath began to look around him at the other guests. When his eyes fell upon Lady Pennington, he was curiously surprised. He had not realized she was acquainted with the Seatons, although her friend, Lady Redmond, seemed to know just about everybody. Perhaps Imogen could claim acquaintanceship through her.
It would appear that Imogen had taken her breakfast with Lord Toddington who seemed to be getting ready to take his leave. Heath looked all about him, sure that Lady Redmond would undoubtedly be somewhere in the room. Seeing that she was at another table altogether in deep conversation with the Earl of Marchmount, he decided he would try to have a few words with Imogen when old Toddington left.
Lifting his still-full coffee pot, he took that and his teacup over to her table and looked at her hopefully.
A Lady for the Brazen Earl: A Historical Regency Romance Book Page 19